Bodies, of Christ

This past Sunday I left worship early, as I have the past five years on the third Sunday in May. I left to arrive on time to compete in the Gold Nugget Triathlon, the country's longest-running all-female triathlon. One year, I even wore my swimsuit under my alb for a fast transition out the door.

Many athletic events in Anchorage take place on Sundays, leaving me out. But the Gold Nugget, though on a Sunday, has a staggered start time, as more than 1500 women swim, bike and run their way to the finish line in distances of 500 yards, 12 miles and 4.1 miles, respectively. The first (elite) racers start at 9 am, while later bib numbers are staggered until 3 pm. I've always had a fairly late bib number, though racers can start anytime after their number is called.

Erik and I left Central's third service shortly after the sermon and I went home to don my swim suit and eat some pre-race food. He dropped me off at Bartlett High and after I warmed up, I got in line to enter the pool.

I should pause here and say that while I'm a long-time runner and am moderately good on the bike, I am no swimmer. For perspective: this year my run portion ranked me #49 out of 1500. My swim placed me at #723. My mom said I barely passed second-grade swimming and, years later, while taking lessons at the South Anchorage Alaska Club, the coach stopped me once to say, "Smith! You know what your problem is? You're afraid of the water." 

From about age 28-30, I painstakingly learned how to swim, through lessons and on my own. I now have a somewhat passable front crawl. It took me months, though, to get the breathing down. I'm still working on the flip-turn.

I'm glad the triathlons feature the swim part first, so I can get it over with. This year was a little more traumatic than most. I had a little equipment failure. My goggles filled with water (let the reader note they'd been somewhat leaky as of late) and I had to stop and empty/reposition them no less than four times. It was not my finest hour.

But then I had a pretty fast transition (nothing like running through the Bartlett parking lot in a swim suit) to the bike, a good ride and a run that felt fast. I finished with a smile, #111 out of 1500 women, my highest ranking yet. Some day, I hope to make the top 100. Maybe after I learn how to buy better goggles and do some flip turns.

Even though this race means I miss part of worship and the May church council meeting every year, it's worth it to me. Movement has always been key to my spirituality and sanity and I know I'm not alone. I might have learned about God in the Sunday school and seminary, but I felt and experienced him in the mountains and forests.

I was thinking about this during this week as we get ready for Pentecost Sunday at Central. Pentecost celebrates the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples. The book of Acts, chapter 2, says there was a rush of wind, and tongues of fire rested on their heads and each one began to speak in their native language, as the Spirit gave them ability. Even more, the crowds who heard them each heard in their native language. The coming of the Holy Spirit wasn't just a bunch of people who believed because someone told them. They experienced the Spirit in their bodies, ears and tongues.

Our pastors text study group this week was talking about the experience of God in the body. Perhaps, a colleague said, we can understand Christmas and Easter with an intellectual assent, but to really experience Pentecost and the Holy Spirit, we need to know it deep inside our bodies. Another pastor said that the church suffers when we elevate the spirit far beyond the body. In ancient times, that was called Gnosticism. In modern times, it looks a little bit like a young man I met once in Kodiak who worked for a church there. During our conversation, he repeatedly referred to his body as his "dirt suit." He also had a TV in his front yard with an ax buried in its face.

I think God cares about bodies. In our creed, we talk about the resurrection of the body. In what form? Who knows. But I don't think a God who came to earth and took a physical body really thinks of mine as only a "dirt suit." Jesus had a body that ate, drank, cried and laughed. His body was one of the ways he gave and received the love of God. As is ours.

When I was lining up my sabbatical, I noticed it involved a lot of body stuff: yoga retreat, backpacking through New Zealand, cross country skiing in Alaska. I thought the people at the Lilly Endowment (who funded my sabbatical) would think I was a crazy hippy. They asked what would make my heart sing, though, and I told them. It was about moving my body in the world God made, ever aware of the abundant goodness of a bird's song or the feel of the snow under my skis. And I was ever grateful to share it with my husband, who I met while hiking in the pouring rain on a day when most others had stayed indoors.

I guess when I said earlier that I left worship early to go do the Gold Nugget Triathlon, what I really meant was I left the church building early. The worship continued.

United: A Sermon for the 7th Sunday of Easter

A couple of weeks ago I was in Minneapolis at a reunion of my closest college friends, 9 of us total, who lived together in campus housing at Wartburg College in Waverly, Iowa. Despite our diverse opinions theologically and politically, all of us are Christian and we've stayed close, getting together for reunions every couple of years.

Three of us work for churches or ministry groups. One of those girls shared about conflict in her church. Some people had already left the church because they didn't like certain staff members. Other were ready to leave, even though the liked the staff, because they were weary of the negativity and complaining about the staff. My friend reflected that whether or not the complaints about the staff were valid (some probably were and should be addressed, she said), the end result was that a great deal of energy and effort was going into internal conflict. Instead of focusing on outreach, sharing the good news, helping the poor and hungry, members were caught up in fighting among themselves, she said. It was hurting the community and hurting her, she said through her tears.

After we listened to her pain, another friend I'll call Kelli, spoke up. “It's the evil one,” she said. She said that this is how Satan works. He distracts people into fighting and complaining among themselves so that God's word will not be spread and souls will not be saved for Jesus. A couple of other people nodded.

I confess, I inwardly rolled my eyes a little. Kelli is on the other side of the political/theological fence from me on a number of issues. I'm much more certain about the potential for evil that lies inside each of us, more than I'm convinced of a physical being with pointy horns and a tail. I do believe evil is in the world, I'm just not sure that he looks like he belongs in a burning underworld where even the coffee is bad.

As I thought about my friend with the troubled church a few days later, though, I wondered if perhaps Kelli may have a point. Christian community is so hard. It's easy for us here at Central to get distracted, too. Even though we are doing amazing ministry with things like caring ministers, property committee, the homeless shelter and  a large Confirmation program (to name just a few), it's easy for us to get side-tracked by complaining and negativity or worry and fear about our financial situation.

Christian community and the life of faith can be really hard. Jesus knew this. That's why he prayed for us.

Today's gospel from John is a passage scholars call the “high priestly prayer,” delivered by Jesus on the night before he died. It's his last message to the disciples but it's also a prayer as he prays not only for those at the table but for all who will dine at his table for eons to come. I wish the lectionary would have included v. 20-21, which read: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.” All who will believe! That includes us, you and me, the congregation of Central. Jesus is praying for us, not once, but always.

Notice what he does not pray for. He does not pray that things will be easy or rewarding. He knows it won't necessarily be so. He does not pray for us to fill the pews, increase membership, meet the budget or run successful programs. He doesn't pray for it to be easy but that we might be supported by God amid the challenges and that we may stay in fellowship with each other. That's why this prayer is also called the unity prayer, for those early disciples and for us.

So what does Christian unity look like? We can get some clues from 1 John, which we've been hearing from these past weeks in the Easter season. I John is all about life in community and how to love one another. The author is confronting a community in conflict. In his case there were divergent views on the humanity of Jesus. You can insert your own Christian conflict instead, though, and the message  applies. Love one another, despite your differences.

In today's passage, the author talks about the testimony of God, which is God's Son Jesus. The testimony is this, says v. 11-12: “God gave us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.”

So what is eternal life? And what does it have to do with Christian community?

Eternal life in the Gospel of John and 1 John is not as much about life after death as it is about being in relationship with God. Being in relationship with God is real life, eternal life. And that life is available here and now, not just after death. Wherever God is, there is eternal life. Eternal life, then, is not just about the length of life but about the quality of it.

The author of 1 John is not trying to get his readers to believe in Christ; he's addressing a community that is already expressly Christian. Rather, he is encouraging them with the knowledge that they already possess eternal life. This is the good news. That life is already among them in ways they have experienced. This kind of life (zoe, in Greek) is the kind of existence that death cannot destroy. This is the good news.

This has already been explored earlier in 1 John. A community already has eternal life if: they love one another (3:14), lay down their lives for each other (3:16), sharing the world's goods with those in need (3:17), obeying Jesus' command, which is to believe in his name and love one another (3:23, 5:3-5).

The most direct evidence of eternal life is seen to the extent that the community walks as Jesus walked (2:5b-6) and demonstrates its love for one another (4:11-12, 20-21).

How do we experience eternal life, then, at Central Lutheran Church?

Pastor Glenn and I have spent quite a bit of time at Providence Hospital this week, as a couple of members have been hospitalized for more than two weeks. I was talking with Doris Petersen there on Thursday, who told me that she has been so grateful for the support of members at Central. There have been visits, phone calls, cards and prayers. She described the people of Central as “amazing.” Doris couldn't say enough, it seemed, about the people of Central. Now that's an experience of eternal life. Another person has mentioned recently how much support she received after the death of a loved one. Again, an experience of eternal life, made manifest in this Christian community.

So how will, we, the saints of Central Lutheran Church, live together in Christian unity and community? Where will we see signs of eternal life in our midst? Where do you need Jesus to pray for you in your life today? How are you being called as a part of this community and the other communities in which you live, work and play?

I mentioned earlier that my college roommates are pretty diverse in our viewpoints, including those who believe in evolution and 6-day literal creation, are pro-choice and pro-life, and strongly agree/disagree with ELCA's decision welcoming gay clergy. Even so, my college roommates and I prayed together and listened to each others' pain. Later, the aforementioned Kelli spent considerable time helping me pick out the right color blouse at the Mall of America. It felt a little bit like eternal life.

Perhaps we have similarly diverse opinions here at Central Lutheran, which can make living in Christian community a challenge. We don't always agree on politics, aspects of our theology or how to run this church. But our faith in God and the love of Jesus Christ is stronger than what divides us. Living together, with you, the people of Central, feels a whole lot like eternal life.

I'd like to ask for you to pray for our Christian community at Central and all churches. And, by the way, please also pray for my friend.

Amen.

Worn

It all started with a bottle of Tabasco.

Six weeks ago, I started back to work after a three-month sabbatical. It's been hard to re-adjust to the pace of life and work. I'm busier than I remembered. There's always someone else to visit or more work to be done on sermons, Bible studies or Confirmation lessons. People are worried about church finances; this creates conflict on many levels and leaves us uncertain about our future. The busy-ness and anxiety goes right into my body, wearing me down more than the 800 repeats I ripped out on the track last night.

I feel like the magical effects of sabbatical have already worn off. I feel worn. Worn out. Worn tired. Worn down. Some reflections on being worn, in three acts.

Act 1: Breakfast time

This morning, my husband and I had a “heated conversation” about Tabasco. But not really.

Me: Why is TABASCO written in big letters on the grocery list?

Him: Because you haven't picked it up the last several times you've been to the store. (Let the reader note he later acknowledge he forgot the Tabasco on his last grocery trip).

Me: That's because I'm so busy and stressed out that when I go to the store I'm in triage mode: milk, bananas, meat and bread, then I rush out.

Him: It seems like you're in triage mode a lot.

Me: (Promptly bursts into tears).

Act 2: At the airport

I came back Sunday night from a wonderful reunion with my college friends. We met in Minneapolis. I took a connecting flight to Seattle and then arrived at the gate for the Anchorage flight only to see the door closing.

Me: Did the door to the flight to Anchorage just close?

Airline Rep: Yes.

Me: But I need to get home! Can't you open it? I just saw it close! Come on!

Airline Rep: No.

Me: But I have to go home. I have to work tomorrow. It's already too late.

Airline Rep: Let me see your ticket. If there's a later flight tonight, we'll put you on it.

Me: But I have to get home. You don't understand!

Airline Rep: You're not on this flight. Your flight leaves in 45 minutes.

Me: (Promptly bursts into tears).

Act 3: In the pool this morning

Just after the Tabasco Fiasco, I went for a swim at the Y. The water was warm and comforting. I thought about everything that's stressing me out. I thought about how a priest I knew in Berkeley said he swam a lot because it was a way to feel comfort and touch when one is celibate. I thought about how Luther said every time we wash our face we can remember our baptism.

Me: God, I'm worn.

God: I know. I love you. I will never leave you.

Me: (Promptly bursts into tears).

Christian Community and Ewe (You): Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

Here's the manuscript of my sermon from April 29, 2012, The Fourth Sunday of Easter.

As much as I'd like to use today's gospel as an excuse to talk about sheep stories from the farm where I grew up, I’ll share a different aspect of life in rural Northeast Iowa: the free meal, the seed corn dinner and Saturday mornings at the Waverly Sale Barn.

My parents love a free meal. It doesn't matter who is offering it or if my parents actually need or use the services of the business sponsoring it. In my house growing up, a free meal was a free meal and we were there, mom, dad and three kids. There were open houses at the farm implement dealers, meals at the Butler-Bremer County Electric Company and snacks at local hardware store. Many of these were annual customer appreciation events; some celebrated a new business or remodel. Banks, farm supply stores, community college open houses provided pulled pork sandwiches, hot dogs and hamburgers. Some Saturday mornings the Waverly Sale Barn (where livestock is sold) gave away free doughnuts and apples for breakfast. A few times a year during the summer, local seed corn dealers like Pioneer hosted dinners on picnic tables in corn fields to showcase their new varieties. Let me say that the Smith family has never met a free meal that they did not like.

I chide my parents about this and yet as I got older, I noticed that it wasn't just about the food. These events took place in the small towns near where I grew up and my parents seemed to know everyone. These were social gatherings, as my parents inquired how someone's child was doing in college or answered questions about a sick member of our extended family. They may have come for the free Sloppy Joes and potato salad, but they found community in the corn fields and small-town stores.

Where do we find community? Where do we find Christian community? What does community do for us? Do we find it at church? Why or why not?

The text today from 1 John talks about Christian community. The writer of 1 John came from the same school of thought as the writer of John's gospel and they share similar themes. Scholars say 1 John was probably composed after John's gospel, no earlier than 100 AD. Tradition says it was written in Ephesus, but no one knows for sure. It seems like the Christian community to which the letter is addressed needed encouragement in their common life together. The author repeats the commandment to love one another, perhaps because his audience was lacking. The author insists that one cannot truly believe in Jesus Christ without truly and selflessly loving others. Hear again these words from 1 John 3: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.”

A better Greek translation for verse 17 is this: How does God's love remain in anyone who has the world's riches and sees a brother or sister in need and closes the heart? Indeed. This is the heart of Christian community.

But Christian community is hard, because it involves real people, with foibles and failures, bad habits and bad breath. It sounds like a nice idea to love people, in general, but it's entirely another thing to love them, in specific.

Christian community is also hard because who has the time? In the 1950s, people went to church because that's where they found like-minded people and they formed life-long friendships. People went every Sunday to worship and Wednesdays, too, for Confirmation, church suppers and choir practice. Now it's a different era. Families are busier. Kids' schedules are crazy. Many of us have found deep and supportive friendships and loving communities outside of the church. So we don't gather as much, we don't share explicitly Christian community as often or perhaps as deeply.

I'm in no way suggesting a return to the church life of the 1950s. I like being ordained, for starters. But I am wondering about Christian community here at Central. Do you feel welcome here? Do you feel like you can count on your brothers and sisters in Christ here? Are you available to help your brothers and sisters in need? Are you willing to show up and be here for each other on a regular basis, not because you necessarily need to be here for yourself but because your brothers and sisters in Christ need you here?

The Alaska Synod Assembly was held this week in Eagle River. One of the workshops I attended was led by a Luther Seminary professor, Pat Kiefert. He talked about some recent scholarly research into church attendance and building Christian community. Kiefert said that congregations are the best place for young people to learn how to trust other people (besides their families) and how to be trustworthy. These are two indicators for later success in life, by the way. Where else are kids going to learn this in an inter-generational environment? Kiefert said the best place is a congregation.

But churches are failing. Are we failing too? Churches are failing at forming Christian community. Don't worry, Kiefert said, churches across denominational lines are failing too. In fact, about 80% of all mainline churches are in decline. Why are they failing? I wonder if it has something to do with a lack of Christian community. Perhaps if we see our primary task as forming Christian community, grounded in worship and service, maybe we can work together to change things.

Because the church is the one place in the world where you can tell the truth and receive God's mercy. There are no judgments, qualifications or pre-requisites. You are welcome into this community just as you are. The good news is that God welcomes you tenderly, earnestly, like a shepherd who lays down his life for the flock. God in Jesus Christ did lay down his life for us, so that we may see an example of deep, abiding love and may show it to others. And God desires for us the abundant and rich life of living together with our brothers and sisters in Christ, united as one flock.

Well, maybe I'll get to talk about sheep on the farm after all. I will say this about sheep. People say they're dumb, but I don't think that's true. They know how to stick together. When it's time to herd them, they follow, one after the other and generally not one lags behind. I will say this about sheep, too. They know where to find food and they know the hand that feeds them. (I walked over to the alter at this point). When my Father calls them, heeeere sheep, sheep, sheep, they come running up the lane and bolt into the sheep-yard. The meal is waiting for them there. My Father makes sure there is enough for all of them, the daily free meal on the farm. And they all eat it together. Amen.